


We’re Just Good At Loving Each Other, Baby

by allmilhouse



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Amusement Parks, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: Hank and Barry go on a couple of first dates





	1. I’m Good At Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> I had a few wips with similar vibes so I galaxy brained them into one hopefully coherent story?? Chapter one is Hank’s attempt at a romantic first date, and chapter two is the Six Flags thing I alluded to in _Bromance_. I made them too soft AGAIN and I’m sorry 
> 
> fic + chapter titles from Good At Loving You by Mother Mother

“Barry!”

He’s waiting for him, after class, in the parking lot. Leaning against a car, leather jacket over a dark button-down, he looked different. He looked good. The class was figuring out where to go for drinks, and it was easy enough for Barry to fake an excuse and slip away to meet Hank.

The smile on his face was familiar though, and it grew bigger the closer Barry got. “Barry! My man!” He clapped him on the shoulder amicably. “What’s going on? You got plans tonight?”

“Uhh, no?”

“You do now. Hop in!” 

Barry got in the car hesitantly, wondering what Hank was up to. The suspense lasted all of five seconds. 

“Hungry?” At Barry’s nod, he smiled again. “I wanted to take you for dinner. I know a place- totally amazing. It used to be a front for us,” he added confidentially. “But now it’s independent and got this whole farm-to-table thing going on, so worth it. You are hungry, right?”

Hank continued talking while Barry barely followed along, lost in thought. He was done with the Chechens. He had told Hank he wasn’t going to help them anymore. But this didn’t seem like a work thing. And yet, it didn’t fit their _personal_ interactions either. They’d been sleeping together for three months now, but that was it. No dates, no hanging out, no nonsense, just good old fashioned hot sex, and even then, it had been a few weeks since either man had sent the usual “You up?” text. But now Hank was chatting innocuously about the traffic, there was no one else in the car, the whole thing just felt very _pleasant_ , and he couldn’t figure it out. 

He was still puzzled when Hank stopped the car, and they entered the restaurant. Hank held the door open for him, radiating politeness. 

It was a small little place in Van Nuys, trendy looking but not inhospitable. The host recognized Hank, and they spoke in Russian as he led them to a nice, candlelit table towards the back. Barry frowned as their handshake turned into a hug, but couldn’t explain why. Thankfully he handed over the menus and slipped away without another word, leaving them alone at the table. 

Hank disappeared behind the oversized menu, only his tattooed fingers peeking out on the sides. “So what are you thinking?”

Fuches used to always order for him. He’d come back to the hotel, or go over to Fuches’ house, and the food would be waiting, getting cold. It wasn’t something Barry had thought about until recently, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of how little say he had in his own life. And as much as he wanted to take charge now, he had to admit he was staring down the most intimidating menu he’d ever seen before. “Uhh, what do you recommend?” 

Hank’s eyes lit up as he put down the menu. “Are you kidding? Everything here is super great. What are you feeling though? What’s the vibe for tonight?”

“What?”

“The vibe! You know,” Hank smiled patiently at him. “Like, when you got dressed today, what was the vibe you were trying to create?” At Barry’s blank expression, he continued. “Ok, so for me, my usual vibe is very, _island business casual_. Light palette, bright colors, chill attitude. But tonight, I thought, shake things up, so here is debut of _city streets_. Little darker, but I think it works.” 

Barry nodded, his throat going dry during Hank’s speech. He was a well put-together guy, and his outfit that night was definitely a good choice. But Barry? In his faded Henley that he’d been wearing all day, and the only clean slacks he could find that morning? Now that it was pointed out to him, why would anyone even bother to sit down with him? Hank should’ve taken one look and bolted. 

Instead he was still smiling patiently, waiting for Barry to come back to reality. “Uh, yeah, you look, uh, nice.” At the mildest of compliments, Hank beamed, a warm, crooked smile that Barry felt in his soul. 

The server came back, and Hank helped Barry pick something normal-sounding, but still _”super scrump.”_

The conversation flowed surprisingly well after that. Hank was so personable that it didn’t really matter how awkward or quiet Barry got. He still laughed along at the anecdotes, and even managed to share a few stories of his own without dying. Around Hank, he was always a different person, looser, maybe even happier? He was less tightly wound than he was around his classmates, at least. 

So when the server discreetly placed the bill on the edge of the table, Barry felt a little disappointed. He wasn’t ready for the night to end, just as he was starting to enjoy himself. 

Hank seemed to have the same thought. “So where to next?”

“Uh-“

“Unless you wanted to go home?”

“No!” It came out louder than he intended. Hank jumped a little, and he apologized reflexively. “I mean, no, it’s just- what are we doing here? What is this?”

Hank leaned forward, a little conspiratorially, a wild grin on his face. “A date, man!” At Barry’s blank expression, his smile faltered. “Oh shit, did you not get the message? Oh this is all my bad. Can I explain?” Hank waited, all patience and concern as he tried to gauge Barry’s wariness. 

He sighed. “Look Barry, time to put my cards on the table, and go fish. I like you. You’re a sexy badass and I’ve had a boner since you first shot me in that car months ago.” Barry looked away in embarrassment but Hank kept going. “And don’t get me wrong, every time we’ve been together has been super fun. But I thought maybe, if I showed you I can be normal, maybe you’d be ok with this? With me? Out in the world, not shame-fucking?” 

His shoulders slumped softly and Barry was struck by how _delicate_ the other man could be. Hank’s body language was full of little flourishes, small touches, little shakes of his shoulders, nods, and self-satisfied smiles. Barry lamented the fact he hadn’t taken the time to learn what every gesture meant. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, honestly. But he reached for Hank’s hand across the table, gripping it tightly as he saw his face fall. “Except that tonight was fun, and I think we should do it again.”

Lifting his head slowly, Hank matched Barry’s cautiously optimistic smile. 

——-

Hank did wind up taking Barry home after dinner, but Barry insisted on inviting him inside. Rarely needing telling twice, Hank was more than happy to oblige. They chatted first, a little awkwardly. Standing in the doorway, not sure what else to do, Barry asked about the mob. 

“They’re good!” Hank replied brightly, always happy to talk shop. “We’re going fifty-fifty with Cristobal, all the guys are getting along great. Super fun work environment.” 

Barry always found his flashes of competence endearing, and Hank was never more capable than when he channeled his inner middle-management skills. He reached for him, his arms finding their old spot holding Hank’s shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss.

Hank kissed back immediately, his hands finding their place, one curled around his bicep, the other lost in his hair, not tugging, but holding Barry still. The kisses were growing more passionate, as if Hank was trying to put more feeling in it, if that were even possible. The sheer tenderness of the embrace was already striking Barry deep, a feeling in his chest he couldn’t quite shut out. 

His hands shifted, finally settling on Hank’s waist, pulling his hips in close, in line with his own. It had been too long since they’d last done this, and Barry couldn’t hide his desire, neediness overtaking any sense of pride. But Hank didn’t hurry up. Determined to take it soft and slow, he kissed Barry again and again, melting even more into his arms. 

Barry obliged him, too caught up in the relief of having Hank back to really insist on anything. Usually Hank had been the more accommodating partner, but Barry was relishing this opportunity to show Hank he could be patient as well. Until Hank finally pulled back, a soft, serene look on his face. “Please fuck me.”

Careful isn’t a word he’d ever associate with Hank, but Barry was getting used to being proven wrong. He undressed Barry, hands so delicate, tracing his fingers softly whenever they met skin. He wouldn’t let Barry help either, gently pushing him onto the bed. He lost his own clothes in record time, and was back with lube and condoms before Barry could even blink. 

He watched in quiet awe as Hank slicked himself up, and climbed into his lap, lowering himself slowly, drawing a groan deep from Barry’s chest. His hands securely hold onto Hank’s hips, keeping him balanced but letting him control the pace. His mind begins to race, Hank flooding all of his senses, completely oblivious to everything else but his _date_. 

——-

“Barry?” 

He shakes his head, suddenly alert. They’re in bed, Hank propped up on an elbow next to him, skimming one hand back and forth over his bare chest. He’s waiting for Barry, a patient smile on his face. “I said, were you serious earlier? About wanting to go out?” He’s got that look in his eyes again, and Barry feels that flutter in his chest. 

He reaches for Hank’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Of course. You pick the place.” 

Hank grins, excitement lighting up his face. “How do you feel about roller coasters?”


	2. You’re Good At Loving Me

He was in the bathroom, getting the last few items ready when his phone lit up. _I’m here!_ , followed a second later with a Bitmoji looking through a spyglass. _Where are you?_ Barry looked in the mirror and sighed. 

If he was going to get serious with Hank, he knew they needed to do more things as a couple, outside of the bedroom. The problem was Hank was rarely serious- especially now, in his impatient, cartoon version. Barry felt the stark realization that he really was an oversized kid, and that spending the whole day together at an amusement park was a date choice he was going to wind up regretting. But it was too late to back out now. Throwing the sunscreen in the bag, he met Hank’s digital smile with a much smaller, more restrained one, and headed determinedly to the front door. 

Hank was waiting for him outside the car, checking his phone, but he looked up in excitement when he heard Barry approaching. “Hey man!” he said brightly, leaning in to kiss Barry’s cheek while Barry squirmed. “You excited? Today’s gonna be very cool.” He was all doting obliviousness as he deftly took Barry’s backpack and tossed in the backseat, circling around to the driver’s side. “I mean, I’m pumped!” Barry simply smiled in reply as he got in the car, hoping it was convincing. 

Normally Barry preferred to drive, preferred being in control. But he also knew that Hank loved showing off for him, providing for him, looking after him. And even driving against traffic, a forty-five minute drive up to the desert wasn’t exactly something Barry looked forward to. Meanwhile Hank was relishing the opportunity, showing off his new GPS system. 

“Why don’t you just use your phone?” Barry asked. 

Hank shrugged. “I like this system better. The voice reminds me of you.”

Barry ignored the warm feeling in his stomach. “Does it have-“

“No! It doesn’t have a dashcam. Fool me once, shame on us.” Hank changed the conversation then, asking if Barry wanted the A/C higher. Or his seat warmed. Or the sun roof open. Barry said no, fondly shaking his head and looking out the window, focusing on the passing billboards as Hank’s _Best of Eurovision_ playlist did its best to make the drive seem longer. 

They eventually pulled into the parking lot, mostly empty. It was still early, and it was a weekday. Hank had been thorough planning it out one night over dinner. “You don’t want to fight the crowds,” he had explained. “Trust me. I’ve done Disney at Christmas. I know what I’m doing.”

Barry grabbed his backpack and followed Hank to the main gate. Getting through the metal detectors was easy enough, and bag check was a breeze. They joined the line at the park gate, and Hank checked his watch. “Five minutes to rope drop, and we didn’t have to rush. Perfect timing!” He held his hand up for a high five, and Barry couldn’t resist. He was finding Hank’s enthusiasm contagious, and he tightened his hold on his bag in excitement. 

And then he turned back towards the park. The roller coaster tracks stood tall, looming way over them. It was one thing to see them from the interstate, or even the edge of the parking lot (Hank insisted on parking far away. “Easier to get out,” he reasoned, and Barry resisted the urge to make a _National Lampoon’s Vacation_ joke). 

“That’s uh, kinda big,” he pointed out, hoping not to sound as nervous as he was. 

“Aw, that’s what you said on our first date,” Hank smiled. 

Barry hit him in the shoulder in embarrassment. “Jesus, Hank,” glaring at him to cut off the obvious _you said that too_. “We don’t have to ride everything right?”

Hank pouted, just briefly, before that accommodating smile returned. “Of course, man! But, will you trust me? Even just for a few hours, please? I promise I won’t steer you wrong.”

He could never meet Hank’s eyes without melting a little. “Alright, fine. You lead the way.”

The park opened then, and he followed Hank, who made a hard right turn, like most of the crowd. He took in the sights as he trailed behind, smiling. Vague memories of his mom taking him to Cedar Point came tumbling back as they passed the kid’s section, tugging some faint heartstrings he hadn’t felt in years. 

But his heart plummeted as he saw what Hank had been running to- Goliath, the most intimidating- looking coaster in the park. Meanwhile Hank was wearing a soft look, half _please?_ and half _you promised_. Barry nodded once, gravely, and squared his shoulders, his hand sneaking into Hank’s as they headed towards the line and certain death. 

——-

Hours later, and Barry had completely forgotten his earlier march to the gallows. They’d survived the ride, and the one after that, and the one after that. 

Hank had knocked off the first three biggest coasters right off the bat, while the enthusiasm and adrenaline was still pumping. They’d chased those with a few of the smaller rides, and were now taking a break and sharing a funnel cake, having finally succumbed to Hank’s ever-persistent desire for dessert. His big eyes stared at the caramel apples until Barry politely reminded him of his nut allergy, and they settled on healthy old fried dough instead. 

“You know, we’ve done a lot today but I don’t feel tired,” Barry noted, feeling oddly light and mellow for once. 

“Always have to pace yourself,” Hank explained, sucking a bit of whipped cream off of the side of his thumb, leading Barry to look away. “Can’t overload the system. Everything in moderation.”

“Uh-huh,” Barry agreed, eyes glued on the topiary across the way. “So what’s next on the plan?”

“Games,” Hank said firmly. “Always chase food with leisurely activity. But not shopping if it’s early, because then you’re stuck carrying around a big bag all day.” At Barry’s look he explained. “I took some of the guys to Universal Studios when the Harry Potter land opened, you know, as a fun team building exercise! But I had to carry Akhmal’s robes around for hours. He’s a total Gryffindor.” 

That just raised further questions, but Barry only fixated on part of it. “Hey, why didn’t we go to Universal today? Isn’t it closer?”

Hank stared at him like it was obvious. “Yes, that’s the point. I thought you thought you didn’t want anyone seeing us.”

He shrugged. “I’m not worried about Fuches finding me-“

“Not Fuches. Anyone. Barry, I know you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I’m not an idiot.”

Barry stiffened. “Hank, that’s not it. I never said that.”

Hank smiled. “I know you didn’t say it, but you didn’t have to. And it’s ok! We don’t have to be some instagram goals couple. That’s why we’re not at Disneyland either. This,” he gestured, “seemed like the safest option. Six Flags- the land of compromise!”

He went on eating, seemingly unaffected but Barry knew better. He was quickly learning how to read Hank’s mood, and while it was usually somewhere on the cheerful-to-jubilant scale, he also could hide his disappointment well. Shaking his head to focus, Barry reached for Hank’s hand, stilling it. Forcing him to pay attention. “Hank, no matter what I may say, do, or strongly imply, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.” He smiled, before adding “But you’re right- no selfies. But that’s more of a basic safety thing.” 

Hank smiled back, looking slightly flushed, and Barry studied his face for a minute. “Sunscreen time again,” he declared. 

This was the third time that day, and Barry had to admit the first two were embarrassing. Stuck in line for a ride, Hank would shuck his shirt and big floppy hat (this look being described as _Panama smooth_ ) and bent over to coat his legs, while Barry was left to protect his back. And chest. And arms. And head. 

This time, however, Barry was ready. He tried to embrace the intimacy of it, that Hank chose him to do this, that Hank needed him. He passed the bottle to Hank as he started massaging his shoulders, relishing the feeling of being a caring, responsible partner. 

Until Hank awkwardly cleared his throat, in that way Barry knew meant trouble. “Uh Barry, small problem but is this the stuff you’ve been using all day? Because my sensitive ass skin needs the hard shit.” He waved the bottle dismissively. “This is basically what I use to wear around the house.”

Barry deflated as Hank turned around, looking red and worried. 

——-

Three nights later and while Hank’s complaining had subsided, the sunburn had not. His face looked the worst, all red and dry, but Hank had insisted he was fine. 

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” Hank hissed through gritted teeth. 

“I know buddy, I know,” Barry soothed, rubbing the fourth round of balm on his neck. His bedroom had turned into a makeshift spa, with every available surface now containing an entire CVS aisle’s worth of moisturizers and lotions. Hank himself had pretty much taken over the bed, wearing Barry’s clothing because it was looser, and turning every item within reach into a backscratcher. “How long do you usually peel for?” he asked, removing another strip of skin. 

Hank groaned. “Probably another week at least. It hasn’t been this bad in years.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry had apologized umpteen times now, but ducking down for a kiss, he could still feel Hank’s cheek blazing. “Seriously, I feel bad.”

“Well, I don’t,” Hank said, looking up to face him. “Aside from the agonizing pain, it’s smooth sailing. We had fun, right? That’s all that counts.”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Good,” Hank agreed. “Besides, it’s nice having you take care of me.” He reached for Barry, pulling him closer, right up into his lap. It was odd, seeing his bright red hands move across Barry’s body, fingers tracing a light path down his ribs. 

He mirrored him, sliding his hands up under the shirt to one of the few unblemished places on Hank’s body. Far more ticklish, it wasn’t long before Hank was laughing, a carefree sound that spurred Barry on, until he rolled over, effortlessly pulling Hank on top of him. 

With extreme care, he slowly removed Hank’s shirt, before gently tugging down the pyjama bottoms. He awkwardly shimmied out of his own boxer shorts before pressing their hips together, turning Hank’s fading laughter into a soft moan. A sloppy kiss dragged another moan, deeper and needier.

Daring to meet Hank’s eyes, dark and hungry, he snaked a hand around their erections, and started stroking. Long, languid glides up and down, slick but with no real urgency. He turned his thumb, dragging the nail slightly, and Hank thrust up against him, too worked up to be patient tonight. 

“Please, Barry.”

Done teasing, he rested one hand at the small of Hank’s back, holding him steady, keeping him close. He changed his grip, making more of a fist, and started pumping, fast and hard. Barry’s eyes fell to Hank’s neck, focusing on one tattoo standing out against the reddened skin.

He leaned forward impulsively, kissing it. His tongue traced the outline, and he could feel Hank shudder above him, before sinking against him, boneless. Barry followed a moment later, coming in his fist, and resting his head against Hank’s warm shoulder, enjoying the still moment.

“Mmm, time for another shower,” Hank declared, energetic once again. Barry craned his neck to look at him, a slow smile spreading across his face as he takes it in. This happy-go-lucky goofball gangster, this land of contrasts, this _Hank_ , really was all his. Caught staring, he blushed as Hank fixed his hair for him. “Coming?”

“Right behind you, buddy.”


End file.
